Thicker Than Blood
by Acton1842
Summary: Blood is meant to be thicker than water. But when Arthur chooses his new knights, family rivalries threaten the whole of Camelot. Merlin is shocked by a betrayal and a revelation about magic leaves Arthur filled with doubts.
1. The Youngest Son

**Title:** The Brothers of Callington.  
**Characters:** Every one, even Morgana and (a slightly evil) Lancelot in later chapters. Plus an abundance of OC's  
**Rating:** T  
**Genre:** Adventure/Family  
**Pairings:** erm… not sure yet. If you want to find them you'll have to squint  
**Notes:** 1st Merlin fic and as far as literary powers go, I'm way down on the scale. Suggestions for improvements are welcome with open arms. This takes place post 2:13 so there are spoilers  
**Summary:** there are very few knights left in Camelot so Uther has decided to invite any one eligible (ie not Lancelot) to apply. Not only that but all the Sheriffs are in town to discus taxes. The Sheriff of Callington's sons couldn't be more different and his relationship with his daughter opens Merlin's eyes to a world of politics that he's not sure he likes. But that's only the start of the problems. Morgana is still nowhere to be found and Uther seems ready to accuse just about anyone of magic

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the BBC Merlin. I intend no harm/ disrespect. Please don't sue me!

* * *

1. The Youngest Son

Merlin watched the fog settle around the courtyard. Thick wisps of it settled around the steps shrouding the whole area in a greyish tinge. Occasionally the movement of a horse or servant would case the fog to drift somewhere else in thin tendrils, reminding Merlin somewhat of the thick smoke that rises from ashes.

He'd been watching fro some time. Forced to rise early by Arthur's orders he had returned to the crown price's room with the fullest intent of commencing his chores. But once there he had found himself giving in under the weight of sleep. He had only glanced at the window, but then he found he didn't have the energy to look away.

The whole castle had been in turmol for the past few days. Uther was inviting the sheriffs from the outer regions of his kingdom to discus yearly taxes. He had also decreed that anyone wishing to apply to be a knight of Camelot could also come and stay within these 'hallowed' walls. Merlin didn't much care for the situation, all he knew was that everyone, even Arthur, had been rushed of their feet. Merlin's own personal chores included cleaning every piece of armour and every scrap of leather in Arthur's possession, he'd cleaned the horse's stables so many times that he would happily eat his dinner in there and had even been roped in to help with the scrubbing of the castles many corridors. Gaius hadn't escaped the workload; he had spent his time working on a variety of salves and lotions, prepared for all the tournaments that would be no doubt needed in the next few weeks.

Merlin had watched many of the would-be knights arriving. Most of them carried the same conceited I-have-a-big-horse-so-you'd-better-get-out-of-my-way-lowly-peasant look about them. That said, there were a few who looked like they had a discernable touch of humanity, but Merlin couldn't really tell with all the fog.

Merlin sighed as he remembered that he would have to serve them at tonight's feast- a task he relished with the same enthusiasm as cleaning out the leach tank. Arthur had already lectured him on the importance of not making a fool of himself on pain of a spell in the stocks. Merlin had planed to give Arthur a lecture on not being a prat but then he had realised that there would be no point. The visiting lords and ladies would be expecting Arthur to exert the royal 'allure' and if anything, that was one thing Arthur could do flawlessly.

As the number of knights arriving decreased, Merlin remembered that he was meant to be working. He idly strolled over to the fireplace and stoked the burning ashes. Every muscle in his body seemed to protest it and he winced in pain as the iron grazed against his blistered palms. Placing it back on the stand, he realised with a groan that he should have made the bed first. He wiped his hands on his tunic, grimacing as he noticed that his right hand was bleeding, again. To tired to do anything about it he tried making the bed with only his left hand before his sleep addled brain finally remembered that there was a spell for this.

He finished up his chores and worked his way down to Gaius' chambers, grateful that the prince had seen sense for once and given him the morning off. Gaius mumbled a hello as Merlin stepped through the door. He was at work on another salve and the strong odour of Fennel made Merlin's eyes sting a little.

"Are you alright? You've been gone a long time." Gaius asked from his desk. Merlin noticed he had moved it closer to the window for the light with a smile

"I'm fine, it's just slow work with hands this sore" he inspected his palms, "I think my blisters have got blisters"

"There's a slave on the table there…"

Merlin grinned, "Oh, thank you" as he picked up one of many small wooden pots on the table

"It's not for you" Gaius continued, "It's for Sir Boris' youngest son. He had a fight with a thorn bush on the way in and lost"

Merlin put the pot in one of his pockets and made for the door

"I'll give you something for your hand when you get back" Gaius added, sensing that Merlin really was in pain

Merlin turned and smiled at him, "Thanks. Is there anything you want whilst I'm out?"

"No, I've got everything here. Just make sure you're nice to Arthur today; he's got a lot to do this week and very little time to do it in"

"I'm always nice to Arthur!" Merlin laughed, but he knew Gaius was right. This week would have to be filled with as much obedience as he could muster. He'd already made a mental note not to answer back. That was, unless Arthur was about to do something really stupid and life threatening.

It took him a while to find where Sir Boris was staying. All of the visiting sheriffs and knights where lodged in the west wing of the castle, but Sir Boris was a well established knight in Camelot, and his sons were staying with him in his own private quarters. Merlin noticed with a pang how many of the knight's quarters were empty. Sir Boris had been away during the last attacks on Camelot but he was one of few. Nearly all of those still in Camelot had perished, including Sir Leon. Merlin's face burned slightly as he thought about it. He felt responsible somehow.

Merlin was surprised when a very young boy opened the door to Sir Boris' chambers. For a moment Merlin's tired brain thought it might be the youngest son but then he realised that the boy was wearing the livery of a squire.

"I've brought this from the physician" Merlin said, holding out the salve to the boy, "It's for Sir Boris' youngest son"

The squire bowed quite low but didn't take the salve. "My master is not here" the boy must have only been about eleven, but he spoke with remarkable eloquence and control. Merlin was sure that no one had ever bowed so low to him before.

"Would you be kind enough to give it to him?" he asked the squire

"My master ordered that I was to remain here"

"Could you tell me where he is?"

"He is on the practice field with the other knights and his highness"

Merlin thanked the boy and received another low bow from him. He wondered if he had ever heard anyone refer to Arthur as 'his highness' without sarcasm before. Then again, no one had ever treated Merlin with as much respect either. He was only a manservant, albeit to the most important person in Camelot.

Merlin was still musing upon this when he reached the training grounds. He soon realised, with a sinking feeling, that Sir Boris' youngest son would be difficult to find. Nearly every knight, squire or son of the above must be here on the field. The fog had cleared, and now the mid morning sun was reflecting off of hundreds of set of armour. Well, maybe hundreds is a bit much, but it certainly appeared that way to Merlin. They all appeared to be gathering near a large white and gold tent and Merlin made his way towards it, desperately trying to remember what Arthur had said to him this morning.

He remembered as he neared the tent. There was a long table in front of it where three knights sat, one with a box of money and another with a scroll so long it ran over the table and pooled that the knight's feet. Merlin instantly recognised the one in the middle as Arthur himself his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. The one with the scroll was Sir Guy, one of Uther's oldest knights. He was completely bald apart from a crescent of grey hairs just above his ears. He sat with his head nearly touching the scroll as he scratched the quill on it at a painfully slow pace. Merlin saw, with relief, that the other knight was Sir Boris himself. Sir Boris was also one of Uther's knights but he was much younger than Sir Guy. He had very thick brown hair that was only just beginning to grey around the edges. His shoulders were very broad, as was his chin and he had a constant glare that looked like it could wither a rose at twenty paces.

Merlin thought about asking him where his youngest son was but thought it might earn him a box on the ears. Instead he tried to memorise the crest on Sir Boris' armour so that he could match it to his son. It took Merlin ages but at last he found a skinny lad wearing the same network of blue and red stripes. Having handed the salve over (Sir Boris' son was one of the arrogant types so their conversation had been short) Merlin tried to sneak back to the castle but he was caught by a very familiar sound.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted from his place at the table

He turned, "Yes Sire!" he shouted back

"What _are_ you doing out here?"

"I was…"

Arthur interrupted him, "Come here and stop yelling!"

Merlin did as he was told and moved to the front of the table

"I was…"

"Move" Arthur ordered with a roll of his eyes. Typical Merlin standing in everyone's way…

Merlin moved behind the table, "… delivering a slave to Sir Boris' son"

"Stay there and don't move" Arthur sounded so irritated an exhausted that Merlin almost felt sorry for him, "I want you somewhere I can see you"

Merlin was about to point out that Arthur wouldn't be able to see him anyway, unless he had eyes in the back of his head, but thought better of it.

He quickly came to understand why Arthur sounded so exasperated. The process of signing on the would-be knights was long and tedious. Merlin quickly became bored of the ritual. Each knight would go to the table and announce his name. He would give his seals and any other important looking pieces of paper to Arthur whilst Sir Guy would start to write his name on the scroll. The knight would then give a bag of coins to Sir Boris who would log the amount and place it in the box. Arthur would wish the knight luck and then the whole process would start again.

Merlin found his eyes wandering. There were still lots of knights on the field but the scroll was filling with names very fast, even at the speed that Sir Guy was writing. Some stood with squires, barking orders at them. Others stood with friends and some were even on their own. But they all looked proud, haughty and most of all arrogant. Perfect matches for Arthur then.

But then Merlin saw a knight standing on the edge of the crowd who didn't look anything but worried. He stood with a slender girl who appeared to be fussing over him. Merlin shifted slightly so that he could hear their conversation.

"Philippa" said the knight to the girl as she adjusted a strap on his arm, "I'm fine, stop fussing"

"I'm sorry Gwyn" she replied, tucking the strap away under his glove. "Are you sure you've got everything"

"You've asked me that already"

"Ah, sorry"

They smiled at each other and Merlin couldn't help but notice Gwyn checking everything on his person

"Yes, I've got everything" he eventually answered

"Good" Philippa replied, tucking a stand of hair behind her ears. Both Gwyn and Philippa had hair that was a dark gold colour, his slightly darker then hers. His sat messily atop his head in a way that reminded Merlin somewhat of Arthur going to bed with wet hair. Hers looked like Morgana's but instead of being smooth and controlled it hung loosely down her back, following her as she moved like some sort of gold haze.

"Are you ready?" she asked

Gwyn swallowed "Yes"

She lent up and kissed him on the cheek, "You'll be fine"

"What if they don't like me?"

"They will!"

"But if…"

"If they don't like you they don't disserve you"

Gwyn laughed, "Maybe I should wait until Lucan comes back"

"And let him steal all the fun?" Philippa laughed, "Gwyn, you're just as talented as any of the knights here, if not more so…"

"You're meant to say that; you're my sister"

"It's the truth! I believe in you Gwyn"

"And you are never wrong"

"Exactly. Not when I comes to you any way"

This time he kissed her, "Thank you Phil"

It wasn't long before Gwyn approached the table and Merlin watched with renewed interest.

"Name?" Arthur snapped

"Gwyn, youngest son of Sir Rogres, sheriff of Callington" Gwyn fumbled with a handful of papers but eventually managed to hand them to Arthur, who barely glanced at them. Gwyn handed his money with out further mishap. Gwyn was about to leave when Arthur's head finally shot up from the papers

"Your Rogres' _youngest_ son"

"I am sire"

"You have a brother?"

"Yes sire, my brother is Sir Lucan"

"Lucan!" Merlin was sure Arthur was smiling, "Yes, I remember now. Where is he?"

"He is in Gaul at present Sir with a few other Knights of this realm. They are meant to be travelling back to join us here"

"That's good" Arthur sounded genuinely pleased, "and that, is suppose is your sister" he looked over to Philippa who was unfortunately distracted by a robin in the trees.

"Yes sire" Gwyn replied

"Well, I shall look forwards to seeing your brother, Gwyn. Good luck in the tournament"

Gwyn bowed and very quickly left, steering Philippa away from any further distraction.

Sir Boris lent in to whisper into Arthur's ear, "who is Sir Lucan sire?"

"Lucan was knighted here a few seasons ago. He's a very good swordsman. I wonder if his brother will be of the same calibre"

Sir Boris grunted in what Merlin thought was disapproval. True, Gwyn was skinny and nervous looking but Sir Boris' own son was equally slim.

"We shall see, won't we?" sighed Arthur, "people have many sides"

For once, Merlin couldn't agree more.

* * *

A/N So I am debating on whether to continue with this. I have plenty planned for everyone. There's betrayals, friendships an adventure-turned-bloodbath, a run away and a certain-someone's magic FINALLY gets revealed (did I say Merlin?- maybe, maybe not...). I could write a trailer and am toying with the idea of doing so.

So, yay or neigh. Do I continue or do I hang my head in shame? Only one way to let me know…


	2. The Sheriff's Daughter

_**Thicker Than Blood (The Brothers of Callington)**_

_**Chapter: 2 The Sheriff's Daughter**_

_A/N- Three is a good number. Big thanks to my reviewers, sorry this is so late. I hope I don't disappoint. Here goes…_

Gwyn tried to ignore the tight knot in his stomach, but the more he thought about everything the worse it got. The way he was feeling seemed similar to that of when he was facing his biggest foe out on the training ground. But he wasn't. He was just getting dressed to go to a banquet. He had nothing to be nervous about; apart from the fact that the crown prince and his potential future employer would be there. And the king of all Camelot. And his father.

But apart from that…

There was a knock on the door and Pip, who was at that point tying Gwyn's boot laces, jumped up to answer it.

Pip was a young lad from Callington that Gwyn had taken under his wing since Lucan had left. His brother had insisted on taking a manservant with him so Peter, the family's most loyal servant, had gone with Lucan to Gaul. It was in some way lucky that Pip had, at that point, needed a new home. He was a small boy of around ten that reminded Gwyn of a small terrier dog. He had very messy red hair and a habit of growling at people when they threatened him. But around Gwyn and Philippa he was very docile. She adored him and Pip often went out of his way to see her, even if it was just to say hello.

The door swung back on its hinges to reveal a very sheepish looking Philippa.

Gwyn sighed eyeing up his sister's unusual attire, "what do you look like?"

She stepped in with a laugh, "I was about to ask you the same thing! But seriously, you look very handsome"

Gwyn ran a hand through his hair uncertainly, "you too Phil. I mean… you look very pretty"

She raised her eyebrows like she didn't believe him and sat down with a sigh.

"What's the matter?" Gwyn asked tucking a strand of gold hair behind her ear. She had left it unadorned and plain but Gwyn always liked it better like that.

"Don't laugh"

"I won't"

"I'm sacred" Philippa looked him straight in the face and he knew she was speaking the truth. Philippa rarely admitted to fear and this sudden revelation worried him.

He picked up her hand and smiled reassuringly, "me too"

"Oh Gwyn" she laughed, "What are we like?"

Pip was just finishing tying a knot in the last lace when Gwyn bent down to him, "Thank you Pip, you've worked very hard today. Why don't you go down to the kitchen and get yourself some thing to eat?"

"But…" the boy suppressed a yawn, "The banquet"

"It's been a very long day" Gwyn replied, helping the boy off the cold stone, "I think you should get some rest. There are plenty of servants here. I'll try not to disturb you when I get back"

"Thank you master Gwyn" the boy gave a very small bow, "And you lady Philippa, can I get you something?"

"Thank you Pip, but I don't need anything" she replied, "You'd better get to the kitchen before all the sweetmeats are gone"

Pip saw the sense in the argument and quickly left.

"How's he coping?" Philippa asked once he'd gone

"Very well, all thing's considered"

Philippa gave a faint hum of agreement, "do you know when Lucan and Peter will get here?"

"I'm not sure. I have no idea of how long it takes to get back from Gaul"

They sat like that for a while, Gwyn still cradling Philippa's hand in his own, the both of them unwilling to step out of the room. The siblings both hated new situations and would quite happily run back to the quiet security of their Callington home. But Philippa knew how Gwyn wanted his own chance to shine, even though he'd never admit it, and he knew that she secretly longed for the thrill of adventure.

"Why are you scared?" asked Gwyn softly, remembering her earlier confession

"Oh it's nothing" she blushed as Gwyn fixed her a pointed look, "I just… father is going to be there"

Gwyn would say that it wasn't normal to be scared of seeing your own father. But Gwyn was Philippa's brother and knew what she was talking about. Sir Rogres had a flammable temper, but that wasn't the reason Phil looked so pale.

"You know he intends me to marry" she confirmed

Gwyn knew all right, and he feared it more then she did. Rogres had been trying to secure a marriage agreement for quite a while now and Gwyn was thankful that they had all fallen through. That's not to say that Philippa wasn't pretty… well, she wasn't in the conventional 'Lady Morgana' sense. The siblings had all met Morgana before and Gwyn remembered being struck to the bone by the pure elegance of the King's ward. Compared to her, Philippa was gangly and awkward. Although both girls were pale Philippa's skin lacked the delicate glow of Morgana's and her hair… well, _that_ was another matter entirely.

But Gwyn never got the impression that Philippa much cared. Certainly, back home in Callington there was no reason to worry about what others thought of her, especially with Sir Rogres being away so often. But now for one of the first times in both their lives everyone would be looking at them, judging them.

Gwyn shivered at the thought

"I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise" he said, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into the embrace and laced her arms around his waist. They sat there for a moment, gently hugging each other, drawing strength from the security they felt when they were together like this. But the night was drawing on and they had to face the hall sometime. Besides, Gwyn's stomach had begun to rumble.

"I think that we'd better…"

"Go" Philippa finished the sentence, releasing her brother and smoothing down the folds of her dress with practiced care.

They both stood, she straightening his collar and he tucking yet another errant curl behind her ear. Then they linked arms and stepped out into the cold, silent corridor.

For a few moments they said nothing, until Philippa thought that the sound of leather on stone might drive her mad.

"What's rule number one?" she said very quietly. Gwyn smiled as he remembered the game they used to play as children. They would make up a set of rules whenever they were facing something hard or difficult. Generally, rule's one to five would be useful until they got sillier and sillier. Once, rule number fifteen had been, 'Phil is always right, even when she is wrong'. Lucan had declared it stupid, but Gwyn thought it was possibly the best rule they had ever come up with.

"Erm… watch your step?"

"Good" Philippa thought for a bit, "How about, be nice to the blond one"

"I guess by that you mean the Prince?" Philippa nodded, "Perhaps we should make it, always call the Prince, 'your highness'"

"Don't be rude to the servants"

"Yes, but don't be too nice to them either" Gwyn added remembering how much trouble Philippa had got into for 'helping' a servant before

"Magic equals bad?"

"Magic equals so bad that we should definitely never mention it in these walls again"

"Agreed"

The statement hung in the air as the siblings approached the huge oak doors of the hall

"I've got a better one" Philippa whispered into Gwyn's ear, "Don't say what you are really thinking. Just bow your head, smile and agree. No arguing and no insubordination. Keep strong opinions to yourself and try not to bore anyone with talk about crop rotation. If in doubt, talk about the weather"

Gwyn smiled at her, "Do you think you can manage it?"

She laughed, "It's your big day. I'll have to try"

Merlin had been in the great hall for what felt like ages, but was more like an hour. The pitcher of wine that he was holding was irrationally heavy and although Gaius had made good on his promise of a salve, the handle of the pitcher was digging in at precisely the wrong angle. Merlin had eventually found that the best way to avoid the general ache that was settling on his person was to keep moving. And that is the reason that tonight, of all nights; Merlin was being one of the most attentive menservants in the hall.

Arthur had noticed this change and in typical prince fashion was giving himself the credit for this remarkable turnaround. Of course, it was all due to his fine skills of training and leading. That was the only possible explanation for it.

The crown prince played his part beautifully, if he did say so himself. Every lady, and possibly quite a few of the men, visibly melted under his gaze. Already several women had positioned themselves clearly in his sightline and were standing at practiced angles that showed off their best 'assets'. Arthur's smile illuminated the whole room and the sound of his laughter was of such brilliance it rivalled the angels themselves.

Well, maybe that's a bit far, but Arthur certainly carried himself with the aura of 'divine right' and the angels comment had been said about him before, so it was all fair.

But of course, the smiles and the laughter were completely fake. In reality Arthur was bored. It was in situations like this that he would usually distract himself by taunting his manservant or trying to goad Morgana into an argument. Today, however, he could do neither, so was reduced to making small talk with Sir-what's-his-name-son-of-the-one-with-the-big-beard.

He'd stopped paying attention to what was going on ages ago. So he completely missed the exchange happening between his father and a small group of people. Merlin, on the other hand, still possessed enough sense to keep his eyes and ears open.

He had noticed the gold haired knight (or knight-to-be) making his way through the throngs of people, his sister following close behind. Initially, he wasn't in the least bit surprised to see them but his interest was sparked when he realised that they were heading straight for the king. Merlin followed them with practiced stealth, not sure quite why he was interested in the skinny lad and his pale sister. But, he reasoned, if these people were going to be spending a lot of time with Arthur then surely it would be best for everyone if Merlin was to double check their credentials.

Realising that he was just looking for an excuse to eavesdrop, Merlin moved to an alcove that was secluded but not so much so that it would look suspicious. He turned just in time to see the siblings address a fat, balding, hostile looking man.

"Father" Gwyn said very quietly, bowing low as his sister curtseyed. Merlin's eyes widened in surprise; the siblings bore absolutely no resemblance to the mound of flesh they were now addressing

"Gwyn. Philippa" the round man bowed his head a fraction to his 'children'

There was a pregnant pause

Philippa took a deep breath like she was preparing to say something, but her farther turned, "Your highness" he bellowed, more out of the fact that he had a massive set of lungs rather then he was just being rude, "May I introduce you to my youngest son and my daughter"

Uther turned to them and acknowledged their presence with a small nod. Gwyn and Philippa bowed again and seemed to become visibly more relaxed.

"How do you like the castle?" Uther enquired

"Very much so your highness" Philippa instantly responded with a large smile. But the smile faded when she was shot a disapproving look by her father

Gwyn laughed, "you will forgive my sister your highness, she had not witnessed such fine settings before" Merlin had to smile at the tactful damage limitation Gwyn employed

"I am glad" the Uther's statement encouraged Philippa to lift her head a little, but her eyes remained fixed on the floor

"Do you intend to take part in the tournament?" Uther asked

"Yes your highness. It is an honour to even be asked"

"My eldest son is also set to arrive for the tournament" their father interrupted, "you remember Sir Lucan?"

"Oh yes" Uther responded genuinely, "he cased quite a stir a season or two ago"

At that point, an old knight addressed the King and stole his attention away, but Uther did look back. "I wish your son the best of luck, Sir Rogres" he said, not specifying which son

Philippa lent into Gwyn, "I am so sorry. I broke the rule"

"I don't think anyone minded Phil" Gwyn smiled reassuringly

"Philippa!" Sir Rogres bellowed, even though she was standing beside him, making her eyes widen in fear.

She turned to him slowly, "yes father?"

"I'd like you to meet someone" Rogres gestured to a man that had somehow materialised next to him. Merlin strained his eyes and soon recognised the withering but not in a good way, gaze of Sir Boris

"This is Sir Boris" Rogres continued as the party exchanged bows, "He is a Knight for Sir Uther and a powerful person within this court. This is my daughter Philippa"

Sir Boris's face twisted into something half way between a smile and a leer as he took Philippa's hand and pressed a kiss to it

"Please to meet you" Philippa tried to hide the stammer in her voice

"The pleasure is mine" Sir Boris continued, not letting go of her hand, "you look very pretty tonight, my lady. The colour of your dress suits you"

Philippa's cheeks flushed the same hue of burgundy as her dress, "you are too kind my lord." Merlin saw her arm tense as if she was trying to take her hand back. But if anything Sir Boris only held her tighter. He didn't say anything, just 'smiled' at her. Gwyn was about to step in when Philippa decided to deploy Plan B.

"The er… weather has been unseasonable, don't you think?" Philippa asked timidly now visibly trying to twist her hand out of Sir Boris' vice like grip

"Most unseasonable" Boris agreed. Philippa saw her plan failing and looked around desperately for an escapee route in a way that made Merlin think of a sparrow trapped in a cage. He was trying to plan a way of saving the poor girl but his exhausted brain couldn't come up with anything.

Luckily, he didn't need to.

"Would you like to dance?" Sir Boris asked

"I… er" Philippa couldn't decide how to say no. Then again if she agreed to dance he might finally let go of her hand, "That would be nice"

And then it happened.

Philippa took a step to the side just at the same time that Gwen, bless her, rushed past with a huge pitcher of wine. There was a squeal of pain and a sickening splash as a vast amount of wine became airborne and landed on the Lady Philippa.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" a voice that didn't sound like Gwen's apologised. Merlin had to do a double take before he realised that it was Philippa that was apologising.

"It's fine my lady…" Gwen began

"Did I hurt you, I'm so clumsy" Philippa moved to the edge of the hall, directing Gwen with her so that they could talk without being stared at

"No my lady. I am so sorry for ruining your dress"

"Oh it's fine. I'm sure it will wash clean." Philippa's smile was so genuine that Gwen relaxed, "you know, I think it looks better this way" she gestured to the huge wine stain and laughed

"Dear me, first night here and I've already caused an accident" Philippa sighed, "I really can't apologise enough"

"There is no need for an apology my lady, it was my fault"

"I very much doubt that. I'm one of the clumsiest people I know, and that includes my brother!" again she laughed and Gwen couldn't help join in, "I'm Philippa by the way. I'm the sheriff of Callington's daughter"

"I'm Guinevere" the two girls smiled at each other, "but most people call me Gwen"

"It's very nice to meet you Gwen. Now if you will excuse me, I think you may have given me the perfect opportunity to retire early, and for that I am eternally grateful"

Philippa curtseyed to Gwen and smiled once more before turning to make her way through the scores of Knights and Ladies.

Gwen stared after the girl with a slightly bewildered expression. No one, not even Morgana had spoken to her with such a level of friendship on their fist meeting. And Gwen was pretty sure that she'd never met anyone who could take having half a pitcher of wine poured over them with such good humour.

There was certainly something very odd about that girl.

* * *

_A/N- so, you like? I hope I wasn't being too obvious there. What an earth is going on with Sir Boris and why was Phil so eager to leave. Will Merlin ever recover his strength and talk to these two. Will Arthur ever stop being a prat? (I think you can answer that one yourselves.) :)_

_Up next; we find out whether Gwyn is a weedy as he looks, if sir Boris' youngest son actually has a name and Rogres' prodigal son returns._

_Writing this has made me feel so much better! I failed my driving test today and it has worked as some sort of therapy. But do you know what would make me feel any better…?_

_Who me, fish for reviews? Never!_


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